Title: In the Silence of Our Hearts 
Author: Eressë 
Author's Email: eresse21@yahoo.com 
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor, Elrohir/Legolas
Rating: R 
Summary: A jest inadvertently unearths an unsuspected past and 
sets the stage for an unlikely future.  Part 10 of 
Greenleaf & Imladris series.  Follow up to Aftermath. 
Disclaimer: All the Elves belong to that old wizard, Tolkien. 
Authors Note: Consider this a short break.  Wanted to delve a 
little into Rivendell’s resident chief counsellors' 
relationship for a change.  Erestor’s history is vague at best.  
There is no indication of when or where he was born or even 
if he was of the Noldor or Sindar.  One can safely assume that 
he must have been intelligent and cunning for him to have been 
one of Elrond’s most trusted advisors.  As for Glorfindel, an 
Elf-lord of the power and status ascribed to him by Tolkien must 
have been a force to reckon with even in a fabled realm like 
Rivendell.  Coming up: Prelude to Grief. 

In The Silence of Our Hearts  
 
Imladris, coirë TA 1980  
 
Part I  
Rivendell’s golden-haired captain slowly made his way down 
the main corridor of the Last Homely House to the library.  
He sighed a little pensively as he neared the chamber.  
Five years, he thought.  Five years since he’d faced the 
Witch-king of Angmar and driven him out of the north to 
Mandos-knows-where.  The feat had added to his legend.  
 
That hadn’t mattered to him.  Duty and honor had required 
the action of him, not vainglory or the need for fame.  And 
besides, all the praise in Arda had not brought him the one 
thing still lacking in his life.  
 
In two lifetimes worth of living, he had loved only twice 
and neither had come to fruition.  The first was doomed 
from the start for the lady he’d cherished had loved 
another.  That had pained him but he’d soldiered on and 
served her and her chosen one as faithfully as his oaths 
dictated.  As for the second...that had hurt even more.  
For he had destroyed any chances of that love blossoming 
with ill-considered words.  Regret had come afterwards but 
as was the wont of regret, it had been too late.  
 
He sighed once more.  What is the good of a second life if 
all there is to look forward to is an eternity alone? he 
mused.  He had ceased to believe that such happiness could 
still be his.  He had long ago forced himself to be content 
with the affections of his friends and the respectful 
regard of his colleagues.  After all, that is what he had 
in Rivendell, and in great abundance.  Best not to yearn 
for more than what the Valar were willing to give.  
 
He pushed open the library door.  Erestor was already 
seated at the table by the wide  mullioned windows.  Spread 
out upon the table top were maps and sheafs of parchment.  
He heard a scuffle to one side and glanced to his left in 
time to see Elladan taking down a book from the long shelf 
that lined that side of the chamber.  The older twin seemed 
oblivious of his arrival, busy as he was selecting more 
volumes.  
 
Glorfindel turned his attention back to Erestor.  One 
golden eyebrow rose in some amusement as he took in the 
steward’s raiment.  For someone who held great store by the 
need for proper attire in public, Erestor was remarkably 
dressed down.  But then again, the captain considered, it 
was hardly practical to wear one’s robes of office for a 
simple meeting over scout reports and the like.  A simple 
meeting that was sure to be long and wearisome.  
 
Erestor looked up and said without preamble: “‘Tis about 
time you arrived.  Mayhap you will manage to make sense of 
some of these reports.”  
 
The fair Elda approached the table bemused.  “Why, 
Erestor?  What hinders you in comprehending them?”  
 
“A general lack of order and clarity,” the counsellor drily 
replied.  “Really, Glorfindel, is it too much to ask more 
coherence from your men?”  
 
“They are warriors, not scribes,” Glorfindel wryly said.  
“You cannot expect them to be as articulate as yourself or 
Lindir for instance.”  
 
“Yet *you* write with great eloquence, *Captain*,” Erestor 
countered pointedly.  
 
Glorfindel smiled a little at the barbed compliment.  “You 
would actually praise me for something?” he commented 
bitingly.  “Now, that is something that does not occur 
every day.”  
 
Erestor snorted elegantly.  “I always give credit where it 
is due, that is all,” he retorted.  “Now, may we get on 
with this?  I should like to present Elrond with something 
before this day is done.”  
 
The captain shrugged and sat down opposite him.  Sifting 
through the reports, neither noticed Elladan as he slipped 
out with an armful of books.  
 
The twin made his way to Elrond’s study.  Within, Elrond 
sat at his desk, carefully transcribing old documents onto 
crisp sheets of parchment.  On the couch, Celebrian sat 
with her feet daintily tucked under, busily emroidering a 
tunic for her husband.  Both looked up and smiled their 
welcome when their older son entered.  
 
“I hope I got all the books you requested, Ada,” he said, 
laying the tomes on his father’s desk.  
 
“I believe they are all here,” Elrond said, swiftly taking 
stock of the different titles.  “Thank you, ion nîn.”  
 
“You’re welcome.”  
 
Elrond glanced up when he realized Elladan had not made a 
move to leave.  If anything, the younger Elf was looking at 
him curiously.  
 
“What is it?” he inquired, recognizing the signs of an 
impending interrogation on his son’s face.  
 
Elladan grinned.  “I wish to ask about Glorfindel and 
Erestor,” he said.  
 
Elrond looked at him in surprise.  “What of them?”  
 
“‘Tis their demeanor with each other.  There is always a 
bit of reserve between them even in their friendliest 
encounters.  ‘Tis difficult to tell if they are friends at 
all or just colleagues.  I have never felt the 
same...warmth between them that I see in their 
relationships with others.  Why is that?”  
 
Elrond shook his head.  “In truth, I do not know,” he 
admitted.  “It puzzles me as well considering that Erestor 
once worshipped the ground Glorfindel stood on.”  
 
Elladan stared at his father.  “He what?”  
 
“Glorfindel was his teacher long ago when Erestor first 
came to live here.”  
 
Elladan frowned.  “I just realized something.  I know next 
to nothing about Erestor’s early life, “ he remarked.  
“Just how and when did he come to Imladris?”  
 
“Right after Eregion was overrun by Sauron’s hordes,”  
Elrond replied.  “He was but a child and his mother soon 
faded afterwards leaving me as his guardian.  But that’s 
starting in the middle of the story.  Do you wish to hear 
the whole of it?”  
 
“Aye, it sounds like an interesting tale.”  The twin sank 
down into the chair opposite the desk.  
 
Elrond placed his elbows on the tabletop, steepling his 
fingers as was his wont when relating a long tale.  
 
“Erestor’s mother was a lady in Thingol’s court in 
Doriath,” he said. That alone elicited a startled reaction 
from his son.  “His father was a skilled craftsman in the 
service of Curufin.  As you know, Thingol’s trust in the 
Noldor diminished after he learned of the kinslayings.  
When Erestor’s parents fell in love, they removed to 
Nargothrond rather than endure the king’s distrust of 
Erestor’s father.  After Nargothrond fell, they were among 
the few who managed to escape the sack of the city.  They 
fled to Lindon and lived there for a while.  Later, after 
Celebrimbor founded Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion, they chose to 
reside there for Erestor’s sire desired to live amongst 
fellow artisans and ply his craft once more.”  
 
“‘Twas in Ost-in-Edhil that Erestor was born and where he 
spent his earliest years.  But soon after, Sauron invaded 
Eregion.  Glorfindel and I were sent by Gil-galad to give 
aid but we were unsuccessful and the most we could do was 
help the survivors get away safely.  Many chose to retreat 
to Lindon.  But some came with me to this vale and helped 
me build Imladris.  Erestor’s father had perished but his 
mother survived.  She did not live long after, however, for 
such was her grief.  She appointed me Erestor’s guardian 
shortly before she passed away.”  
 
Elladan stirred.  “How old was Erestor then?”  
 
“He was little more than twenty-five-years old.  A mere 
Elfling.  I took it upon myself to raise him as his parents 
would have wanted.  But I asked Glorfindel to be his 
teacher as I could not take on the task myself at the 
time.”  
 
“And he worshipped Glorfindel?”  
 
“To a fault.  I know that Glorfindel tried to temper 
Erestor’s attachment to him but nothing came of his efforts 
until Erestor’s fortieth year.  We sent him at that point 
to Lorien to further his education.  He returned for his 
coming-of-age.  By then, he’d changed.  Whatever feelings 
he may have previously harbored for Glorfindel had 
obviously faded with the time and distance apart.”  
 
Elladan considered what his father has said.  “And 
Erestor’s feelings were nothing more than hero-worship?” he 
asked.  “He did not feel anything deeper--like love or 
lust?”  
 
Elrond raised his eyebrows at that.  “You would think of 
that,” he commented with some amusement.  “I suspected it 
might be more at one point.  But it became moot when he 
ceased to care overmuch for Glorfindel.”  
 
“Why did you ask that, gweniuar?” Celebrian inquired, 
speaking for the first time.  Her voice held the slightest 
bit of suspicion.  
 
Elladan darted a look at her.  “Why, nothing, Nana,” he 
said.  “I was just curious.”  
 
Celebrian looked at her husband, her blue eyes twinkling.  
“Which gives me all the more reason to worry,” she said.  
 
“Neither Elrohir nor I have played any pranks on anyone in 
the last five hundred years!” he protested virtuously.  
 
“That we know about,” she rejoined mildly.  
 
Elrond chuckled.  “You cannot blame your mother for being 
wary.  You and your brother may have outgrown the more 
hair-raising activities you were once so renowned for.  But 
you have not outgrown your predilection for jests and have 
only resorted to more subtle means of expressing them.”  
 
Elladan could not help a scapegrace grin.  “Really, Ada,” 
he murmured.  “You’d think we were still Elflings.”  
 
He rose and, with an affectionate bow to his parents, 
departed.  Elrond and Celebrian looked at each other.  
 
“What do you think?” she asked.  
 
“I do not know what to think,” her husband answered.  “But 
I will not be surprised if Erestor comes to me before the 
week is up bearing some tale of outrage.”  
 
“Only Erestor?”  
 
“Our sons have never dared cross Glorfindel overmuch in the 
past.  I do not think they will start at this late date.”  
 
******  
Elladan barged into his twin’s room without preamble.  He 
grinned at the sight that greeted him.  Elrohir was 
sprawled on the cozy divan below the window, his long legs 
tangled with Legolas’ who reclined against the opposite end 
of the couch.  Both were deep in perusal of their 
respective books.  
 
It was some three hundred years since their friendship had 
taken the strangest of turns and they had lain as lovers.  
Since then, Elrohir had not turned to Legolas again for 
release and their close friendship had gone on as before.  
If anything, they seemed closer than ever despite the 
curious lack of any allusions to the intimate interlude 
they’d shared.  Whether this was born of discomfort or a 
need to anchor their relationship once more in platonic 
affection, Elladan did not know.  Legolas never spoke of it 
to him and, for once, Elrohir was not forthcoming either.  
If one did not know they’d once crossed the line of pure 
friendship, one would never guess it had happened.  
 
Elladan was not sanguine that that was the end of the 
matter; not where Elrohir was concerned.  But his twin had 
given no indication that his feelings had progressed beyond 
the mad obsession he’d developed for the Mirkwood prince 
and Elladan knew better than to pressure him.  Elrohir was 
not one to be hurried towards a poorly considered decision 
particularly if said decision was of a life-changing 
nature.  He did suspect Elrohir’s restraint was more a 
reluctance to discomfit Legolas anew than a lack of 
interest but he had no way of confirming this unless his 
brother decided to confide in him the true nature of his 
feelings.  In the last century, Elrohir had mastered the 
art of concealing his emotions efficiently even from his 
own twin.  
 
As for Legolas... Well, he was obviously relieved that 
Elrohir had not gone to him for intimacy once more.  Though 
he had offered to assuage his friend’s need should he ever 
feel it again, it was not surprising that he should have 
mixed feelings about the incident.  It wasn’t only that 
Mirkwood still observed a general proscription on such 
pairings but also that he was uncomfortable about turning 
his long friendship with Elrohir into something else.  
Legolas, as his two friends knew very well, was reluctant 
to engage in affairs of the heart.  He’d always been wary 
of risking himself in something so fraught with uncertainty 
and potential pain.  The loss of his mother and his 
father’s grief over it had only deepened his fears of the 
vicissitudes of romantic love.  
 
Elladan understood and tried to be supportive of both.  
Elbereth knows they need it, he thought.  He put his 
speculations aside as they disentangled their legs and sat 
up to face him.  His precipitate--and noisy--entrance boded 
something. Whether ill or well was beside the point.  
 
“You look like a Dwarf who’s been given the key to 
Doriath’s lost treasury,” Elrohir mildly commented.  
 
Elladan smiled.  “Funny you should mention Doriath.  ‘Tis 
part of the tale I’ve just had the good fortune to hear.”  
 
“What tale?”  
 
“It has to do with Glorfindel and Erestor.”  
 
Instantly, two pairs of eyebrows rose in anticipation and 
two sets of grins broke out upon two comely countenances.  
 
“Do tell,” Legolas beamed.  
 
Elladan did.  And more.  When he was done, Elrohir 
guffawed.  
 
“‘Tis a splendid idea, muindor, but I cannot believe that 
our esteemed counsellors will trust anything we give them.”  
 
“Especially if ‘tis unlooked for,” Legolas agreed.  
 
“I know,” Elladan said.  “I was hoping you might think of a 
way around that.”  
 
Elrohir frowned thoughtfully.  Then his face cleared and he 
beamed with ill-disguised mischief.  “Arwen?”  
 
Legolas nearly choked.  “Would she cooperate with us?”  
 
“She would,” Elrohir said confidently.  “Try as she might 
to be as elegant and demure as mother, she still is a bit 
of the hoyden of yore.  She will be delighted to take part 
in this.”  
 
“I believe you are right,” Elladan laughed.  “Come, let us 
talk to her before we approach Iorwen.”  
 
********  
Glorfindel and Erestor glanced up from their work when 
Arwen entered bearing a laden tray.  They looked at her 
questioningly as she deposited it on the table.  She smiled 
at them with sweet solicitude.  
 
“’Tis Iorwen’s fruit nectar and honey cakes,” Arwen said.  
“She thought you might like some refreshments.”  
 
Glorfindel and Erestor brightened up.  They had been going 
over the reports for two hours now.  It was tedious work at 
best, tiresome at worst.  The tall pitcher of nectar and 
plate of pastries was most welcome indeed.  
 
“That is most considerate of Iorwen,” Erestor remarked.  
 
Arwen smilingly filled the drinking cups with the fragrant 
beverage.  “Why don’t you break that off for now and 
refresh yourselves?  Surely a brief rest will not delay you 
overmuch.”  
 
Glorfindel grinned warmly at the Elf-maiden.  “Thank you, 
Arwen.  This is most appreciated.”  
 
She swallowed a treacherous giggle and dimpled at them 
instead.  “I will leave you to it then.”  
 
Had the two older Elves been more observant they would have 
wondered why she exited the library with undue haste.  As 
it was they set to the simple repast with relief, relishing 
the cool nectar in particular.  
 
A few cups each later, both felt strangely relaxed.  And 
warm besides.  Too warm.  That was puzzling.  This February 
had been unusually cold and even the Elves had felt the 
difference from the previous years though it did not 
trouble them.  
 
Glorfindel pulled at his collar and muttered, “Am I 
imagining things or is it getting hot in here?”  
 
Erestor shook his head.  “Nay, I feel it, too.”  
 
Before long, Glorfindel impatiently doffed his tunic, 
hoping to get some relief from the odd warmth that suffused 
his entire body.  Erestor, less inclined to take such a 
cavalier approach to propriety in public, settled for 
loosening the high collar of his shirt.  But after a few 
minutes, he reluctantly unlaced the shirt to expose his 
neck to some cooling air.  
 
The two continued to discuss the reports and scour the maps 
though Erestor noted bemusedly that their conversation was 
becoming increasingly desultory.  He glanced up at 
Glorfindel during a curious lull and realized the warrior 
was gazing at him.  Nay, not at him but at his bare throat.  
 
Erestor, in turn, found himself taking uncharacteristic 
interest in the muscled form of his companion, which was 
more than adequately revealed by his silken shirt.  He 
blinked, startled by the direction his thoughts had taken. 
He chided himself and tried to focus once more on the sheaf 
of parchment before him.  Glorfindel continued to eye him 
with disconcerting intensity.  
 
“Glorfindel?  Are you paying attention?” he prodded, trying 
to sound authoritative.  But to his confusion his voice 
came out in a husky purr.  
 
The Elda’s eyes moved up to his face.  Now the cobalt pools 
centered on the counsellor’s mouth instead.  
 
“Beautiful,” he murmured.  Erestor stared at his colleague 
unbelievingly.  Glorfindel’s lips curled into a slow, 
sensual smile.  “You are beautiful,” he drawled.  
 
The steward’s mouth dropped open in shock.  He tried to 
speak but his dazed mind refused to supply any response.  
At least, not any proper response.  
 
Seeing the usually unflappable Elf so at a loss for words, 
cheeks flushed and sinuous lips parted, Glorfindel felt a 
delicious shiver of desire course through his limbs.  
Silently, he rose to his feet and walked purposefully to 
the opposite side of the table.  Vaguely alarmed, Erestor 
stood up as well but failed to move away; his feet felt 
strangely leaden.  
 
He could only stare wide eyed as the golden warrior came to 
stand mere inches from him.  Glorfindel raised his hand and 
slid it up and around Erestor’s neck to settle on the 
auburn-haired Elf’s nape.  
 
“Glorfindel?” Erestor said in a quavering voice.  “What—
what are you doing?”  
 
The turquoise eyes widened with predatory brilliance.  A 
wicked grin graced the proud mouth.  
 
“Why, enjoying your company, pen neth, what else?” he 
murmured huskily.  
 
Young one? Erestor thought somewhat stupidly.  The Elda had 
not called him thus since he left his tutelage.  It 
suddenly reminded Erestor that he was indeed millennia 
younger than Glorfindel.  
 
“You should not—that is, we are not—“ Erestor stuttered 
incoherently, his polished tongue inexplicably unruly, his 
stateman’s poise all but unraveled by his companion’s 
seductive demeanor.  
 
“You talk too much,” Glorfindel growled.  With shocking 
deliberateness, he closed the gap between them and sealed 
his mouth to Erestor’s.  
 
Tremors of alarm raced through the counsellor.  Yet he 
could not summon the will or desire to push the Elda away.  
Indeed, another kind of heat flared up within him and 
without thinking he curled his arms around the warrior’s 
muscular frame.  
 
Instantly, he was locked in a crushing embrace, his lips 
forced to part and his mouth peremptorily invaded.  Erestor 
began to shake.  Memories of the distant past swirled in 
his passion-mired mind.  He tried to collect himself, tried 
to gather back the tattered shreds of his dignified 
reserve.  But the shreds eluded his floundering grasp and 
he found himself melting further into the warrior’s 
embrace.  
 
His lips were suddenly released but he had no time to 
wonder or protest for Glorfindel’s mouth travelled to his 
jaw and down his throat with deliberate thoroughness, 
kissing, sucking and nipping at the smooth pale skin.  
 
He caught his breath as he felt himself lowered onto the 
table, Glorfindel insinuating himself with practiced ease 
between his legs.  
 
“Glorfindel!” he gasped.  “This--this is madness!  We 
can’t--!”  
 
The Elda silenced him anew with another assault on his 
already swollen lips.  He felt the warrior’s hands on his 
tunic, swiftly unfastening the clasps, parting the garment, 
then making short work of the ties on his shirt to bare him 
to the waist.  He tried to protest once more but then 
Glorfindel pressed hard against his groin and he was 
effectively hushed by the bolts of sensation produced by 
his own arousal.  
 
Glorfindel broke the kiss and stared down at him.  He 
espied the flaring lust in the cat-like eyes and smiled 
wickedly.  “Still want me to stop, pen neth?” he murmured.  
 
Erestor could only mutely shake his head.  The reward for 
his compliance came in a series of caresses of such fervor 
that they left him breathless and bereft of all lucid 
thought.  Glorfindel leaned over him, plying lips and 
tongue in detailed exploration of the younger counsellor’s 
torso.  Erestor moaned and began to breath in ragged 
intervals.  
 
He reached with trembling hands to touch the golden hair 
and run his fingers through the silken tresses.  He could 
no longer think of anything beyond what the warrior was 
doing to him.  His heart nearly stopped when he felt 
Glorfindel tug at the laces of his long breeches, his other 
hand moving to cup the telltale bulge on his groin.  
 
Things may have gotten completely out of hand but for a 
most providential interruption.  Voices in the hall outside 
penetrated the library doors and the two Elves’ passion-
fevered senses.  Both froze, their lust quelled in an 
instant by recognition of one of the voices.  Elrond!  
 
The Lord of Rivendell had paused outside the chamber to 
speak to someone; Lindir from the sound of it.  Horrified, 
his two most trusted colleagues broke apart and hastily set 
about erasing the evidence of their illicit activity.  Luck 
was with them as whatever Elrond had to discuss with the 
house-master proved engrossing enough to keep him out of 
the library before the captain and the steward had finished 
their task.  
 
When Elrond finally swept into the chamber he found the two 
seated at the table, apparently still studying the reports 
and maps laid out before them.  He shook his head, amused 
and amazed at their diligence.  They looked up as he came 
to the table.  
 
“Come mellyn nîn, enough of this,” he said.  “You can 
finish discussing these reports tomorrow.”  
 
He fully expected them to demur.  He especially expected 
Erestor to press on with the work at hand.  But to his 
surprise, both Elves glanced at each other, flushed, then 
averted their eyes, and finally rose to their feet almost 
simultaneously.  
 
“Aye, you are right,” Glorfindel agreed.  “These can wait.”  
 
“We will see to it that ‘tis completed by tomorrow,” 
Erestor added.  
 
Elrond could only stare in disbelief as his chief advisors 
exited the library rather hurriedly, parting ways in the 
corridor as soon as they could.  And all the time, both 
avoiding looking at each other with assiduous care.  Elrond 
wondered bewilderedly, did I miss something?  
Ada - Papa  
ion nîn - my son  
gweniuar - older twin  
muindor - brother  
mellyn nîn - my friends  
 
 
Part II  
Glorfindel came out of his room the following morning, 
wincing as each step jarred his aching head.  He was 
surprised to find Erestor awaiting him on the porch just 
outside his quarters.  The dark-haired Elf was seated at 
the small table therein, a goblet in front of him.  He 
looked none-the-worse for the headache he must have surely 
experienced the night before.  
 
“You look rather well,” Glorfindel commented a little 
resentfully.  
 
To his amazement, Erestor smiled brightly and said, “Lord 
Elrond provided me with a most efficacious remedy.  Here, 
drink this,” he advised, indicating the goblet.  “It will 
ease your headache quite quickly.”  
 
Glorfindel took a seat and reached dubiously for the 
goblet.  Glancing sceptically at the counsellor, he raised 
it and downed its content swiftly.  His grimace eloquently 
expressed his opinion of the draught.  
 
“Are you certain you aren’t trying to get rid of me?” he 
scowled.  
 
Erestor actually chuckled, making the golden-haired Elda 
stare at him.  “If I wanted to get rid of you, meldir, I 
wouldn’t resort to something as unreliable as poison,” he 
replied rather smugly.  
 
“No?  Then what would you use?”  
 
“Any number of measures that you know well.  You taught 
them to me after all.”  
 
Glorfindel smiled.  The reply had been uttered with warmth 
and—could it be?—affection?  
 
“Aye, you were always a most able student.  My very best, 
in fact.”  His heart gladdened further when Erestor’s eyes 
gleamed with pleasure at the compliment.  This was 
certainly a welcome development.  
 
He suddenly sighed with relief as his headache dissipated.  
“Ai, thank the Powers!  I thought my head would burst.”  He 
glanced at Erestor questioningly.  “What in Arda happened 
yesterday?  Do you know?”  
 
Erestor nodded.  “’Twas the drink.”  
 
“But it was just Iorwen’s fruit nectar.”  
 
“So Arwen told us.  But I spoke to Iorwen about this and 
she said the twins asked her to make up a pitcher for 
them.”  
 
Glorfindel sat back with a comprehending sigh.  “Why does 
that not surprise me?” he remarked.  “I wonder what they 
put in it.”  
 
“My thoughts exactly,” Erestor commented wryly.  He 
continued, “They neglected to remove the pitcher from the 
library and I was able to examine the remaining contents.”  
 
“And?”  
 
“It had separated during the night and the nectar settled 
on the bottom.  The liquid on top was miruvor.”  
 
“Miruvor!”  Glorfindel stared at the steward in disbelief.  
 
“In equal proportion to the nectar itself.”  
 
The fair-haired Elda let out his breath.  “Elbereth!” he 
muttered.  “No wonder we—“ he stopped, his fair face 
flushing with embarrassment.  
 
“Aye, no wonder,” Erestor agreed with a small smile.  
 
Glorfindel wondered at the steward’s mellow mood.  Mayhap 
he was still affected by the cordial?  He felt his cheeks 
burn as he again remembered what had nearly happened the 
day before.  
 
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.  “Since this was 
obviously a jest on their part, were they...?”  He trailed 
off, discomfited by the thought that their former charges 
had most likely been at the very doors of the library 
listening in on the results of their ingenious scheme.  
 
Some trace of color stained the steward's cheeks.  A very 
becoming sight, Glorfindel absently noted.  
 
“I thought of that,” Erestor admitted.  “‘Tis most likely 
they were just outside.”  
 
“Until Elrond approached.”  
 
“Aye.”  
 
Glorfindel shook his head.  “I do not know whether to 
strangle them or salute them for their creativity.”  He 
glanced his companion ruefully.  “I apologize for my 
behavior yesterday,” he offered.  “It was unseemly of me.”  
 
Again Erestor surprised him by beaming good-humoredly.  “Do 
not apologize.  We were not ourselves.”  
 
“That we were not,” Glorfindel vigorously agreed.  “Not for 
all the mithril in Arda would I have ever done that if not 
for that confounded concoction!”  
 
With his words, the good humor abruptly seeped out of 
Erestor’s expression.  He frowned and sat back in his 
chair, shoulders stiffening discernably.  Glorfindel was 
startled by the sudden transformation.  
 
“Erestor, what is wrong?”  
 
Erestor’s mouth tightened.  “It seems things have not 
changed after all,” he said so softly, Glorfindel had to 
strain to hear him.  “I should have known.”  
 
Glorfindel stared at him perplexed.  “Should have known 
what?”  
 
The slate green eyes narrowed.  “I should have known better 
than to fool myself.”  Bitterness crept into the steward’s 
voice.  His face settled into his well-known reserved mask.  
 
“What are you talking about?”  
 
“I shall speak to the young ones and ensure they never 
repeat this,” Erestor responded coldly. “I would not have 
you experience such unpleasantness again.”  
 
Glorfindel was aghast.  With belated enlightenment, he 
realized what his words must have imparted to the auburn-
haired Elf.  But before he could speak, Erestor rose from 
his chair and began to walk away.  Glorfindel caught him by 
the wrist.  
 
“Erestor, I did not mean it that way,” he said ruefully.  
 
He winced inwardly when the counsellor plucked his hand 
from his grip as if he had been scalded by his touch.  
 
“Spare me your bogus apologies,” Erestor retorted.  “You 
always mean exactly what you say.”  
 
“What is that supposed to mean?” Glorfindel demanded 
indignantly.  
 
“*Turn your fancy elsewhere, pen neth.  You are not up to 
my exacting standards*,” Erestor hissed.  “Have you 
forgotten your words, Glorfindel?  I have not.  But you 
need not fear another distasteful encounter for, I assure 
you, this will never happen again!”  
 
With those scathing words, he turned away and strode 
swiftly from the porch leaving Glorfindel impaled on the 
remorse-tipped spear of painful memories.  The Elda did not 
stir from his seat, immobilized by regret and 
hopelessness.  He did not hear the approach of others until 
they were practically upon him.  
 
“Glorfindel?”  
 
He glanced up to see Elrond’s children and the Mirkwood 
prince standing before him, faces limned with concern and 
distress.  Suspicion coursed through his mind.  
 
“Are you all right?” Elladan added.  
 
Glorfindel scowled.  “You heard?”  
 
The four glanced at each other guiltily.  Elrohir 
explained: “We did not mean to.  We were planning to speak 
to you but Erestor was already waiting for you.”  
 
“We did not want to interrupt your conversation,” Arwen 
murmured.  
 
“And so you eavesdropped instead,” Glorfindel said 
caustically.  
 
“We are sorry,” Elladan offered.  “’Twas not our intention.  
 
“But we are glad we did,” Elrohir finished.  
 
“Glad?” Glorfindel repeated incredulously.  
 
“Aye.  Because now we can help you.”  
 
“You have already helped too much!” Glorfindel bellowed.  
 
The quartet flinched, convinced that that roar had been 
heard all the way to the Golden Wood.  Legolas hastily 
said: “We only thought to get you and Erestor to relax and 
become closer to each other.  For too long have you two 
suffered in loneliness.”  
 
Glorfindel was taken aback.  “I do not know what you are 
talking about, Legolas,” he replied.  
 
“Oh, stuff it, Glorfindel!”  Ignoring the four pairs of 
shocked eyes that descended on her, Arwen pressed on.  “We 
know you too well not to recognize how lonely you are 
though the Valar know how hard you try to hide it.”  
 
“Erestor is even worse,” Elladan remarked.  “He pretends 
not to care but we know better.”  
 
“Please, let us help you,” Elrohir said.  “If we caused you 
trouble with our actions then we are truly sorry.  At 
least, allow us to make amends in whatever way we can.”  
 
Glorfindel sighed wearily.  He knew they would not relent 
until he had acquiesced.  “What do you want then?”  
 
“The truth.  What drove you to say such a cruel thing to 
him?”  
 
“’Tis a long story,” Glorfindel said unhappily.  
 
Legolas smiled encourangingly.  “We have all morning.”  
 
Glorfindel almost groaned as the four settled themselved 
around the table.  They were determined to hear the tale.  
 
“From the jest you played on us, I assume you already know 
something of our past,” Glorfindel scowled.  
 
They had the grace to flush in chagrin.  
 
“We found out he was one of your students,” Elladan 
admitted.  
 
“And that he was quite attached to you,” Arwen added.  
 
Glorfindel stared at them then nodded.  “He was not merely 
one of my students,” he said.  “He was the best of them.  
My favorite because of his intelligence and wit.”  
 
“And beauty?” Elladan ventured.  
 
Glorfindel glared at him at first then exhaled in resigned 
exasperation.  “The things you think of...”  
 
“Father says you tried to temper his attachment to you,” 
Elrohir prodded.  
 
The captain grimaced uncomfortably.  “I was uneasy with his 
devotion,” he explained.  “He was so vulnerable and at an 
age when his feelings were at their most turbulent.  I did 
not want him to get hurt.  Not after he’d lost his parents 
so cruelly.”  
 
Arwen frowned.  “Would he have gotten hurt?” she softly 
asked.  
 
Her query made Glorfindel catch his breath.  He paused 
uncertainly.  “I am not certain...” he murmured.  “I only 
did what I thought was right for him.”  
He looked at their attentive expressions.  He finally gave 
in, recognizing the futility of stalling with these four.  
 
********  
He was in his room, abed, unwinding after a long day of 
training young warriors.  He had not been expecting 
anything untoward to happen.  It was then that Erestor had 
come to him heralded by a timid knock on his door.  He 
swiftly rose after bidding the youth to enter.  
 
The Elf had just returned from a short visit to Lindon 
where some of his distant kin resided under Cirdan’s 
lordship.  He had enjoyed his stay at the Grey Havens and 
the company of his father’s cousins.  But even the beauty 
of the sea had not assuaged his yearning for Rivendell, the 
one place he considered his true home, and he had come back 
sooner than expected.  
The painfully shy adolescent had blossomed into a warm and 
affectionate man-child.  Erestor, with his silken hair of 
darkest auburn, slate green cat-like eyes, proud, aquiline 
nose and thin yet sinuous lips, was of uncommon 
handsomeness.  Glorfindel did not know much about his 
forebears but oft thought that it was a glorious fusion of 
Vanyarin, Noldorin and Sindarin blood that must have gone 
into the lad’s making.  
 
The young Elf was also swiftly gaining the body of an Elven 
warrior thanks to Glorfindel’s diligent instructions.  But 
his main interest still lay in the scholarly pursuits 
rather than in warfare.  That combination of sensuous 
features, physically trained form and serious, knowledge-
hungry eyes was nothing less than breathtaking.  Erestor 
did not seem to take notice, indeed seemed wholly immune to 
it, but he garnered the admiration of more and more Elf-
males and maids alike as he matured.  
 
The youth now approached his teacher with hesitation, his 
cheeks coloring ever so slightly in bashfulness.  The 
fading light of Arien shining through the paned windows to 
his right brought out the lush dark red of his burnished 
hair.  Glorfindel had to smile at the charming apparition 
that neared him.  
 
“What is it, pen neth?” Glorfindel asked gently.  
 
“I-I have something for you, hir nîn,” Erestor half 
stammered.  
 
“Something for me?” Glorfindel’s smile widened.  “What is 
the occasion?’  
 
“No occasion.  ‘Tis only a token of gratitude for all the 
time and effort you have spent on me.”  
 
The youth shyly presented a small velvety bundle tied with 
a delicate ribbon.  Glorfindel accepted it with gravity 
softened by the small smile on his lips.  He opened the 
bundle slowly, giving the present due reverence.  He paused 
in amazement when the enclosing fabric fell open.  
 
Against the dark cloth lay a pendant hung from a thin chain 
of gold.  It was highly unusual and therefore quite 
unique.  As unique as its giver, the golden-haired Elda 
mused.  
 
It was an oval stone of varied hues of green and slate grey 
with a few streaks of black.  It reminded Glorfindel of the 
color of Erestor’s eyes.  The young Elf had had it polished 
to a fine sheen and mounted within a delicate circlet of 
gold.  
 
Glorfindel gazed at it, immensely moved.  He had no doubts 
that Erestor had patiently combed the pebbled beaches of 
the Gulf of Lhûn, searching for this one perfect creation 
of nature.  It was in keeping with his scholarly tendencies 
that he should have perceived the intrinsic beauty of what 
others would have disparagingly called a mere colored 
stone.  
 
“’Tis wondrous fair, Erestor,” he murmured, a catch in his 
voice.  “I will always treasure it.”  
 
The rapturous smile that answered his praise heightened the 
boyish beauty of the young Elf.  Glorfindel had to school 
himself not to show too much appreciation for his student’s 
comeliness.  
 
“I am glad you like it,” Erestor whispered.  “Though there 
is nothing that could possibly match you in—in 
magnificence.”  
 
The Noldorin Elf was taken aback.  The compliment was more 
than heartfelt; it was adoring.  Indeed, he now realized 
that the feline eyes were openly, innocently worshipping 
him.  He caught his breath.  This he had not expected.  
This he was not prepared for.  
 
“Hir nîn?  Lord Elrond wants me to live for a while in 
Lorien.  He says you think it will further my education.  
Is this true?”  
 
“Aye, I suggested it to him,” Glorfindel replied, relieved 
that the youth’s interest seemed to have shifted elsewhere.  
 
“But I do not wish to leave Imladris,” Erestor said 
earnestly.  “I do not wish to leave *you*.”  
 
The warrior stiffened with alarm once more.  The youth’s 
interest had not changed after all.  “Erestor, you have 
learned all that I can possibly teach you,” he said.  “’Tis 
time you came under the tutelage of others.  Celeborn and 
Galadriel are excellent teachers.”  
 
“But I hardly know them,” Erestor protested.  “I do not 
care for them the way I—I care for you,” he added in a 
hushed voice.  
 
Glorfindel swallowed hard.  There.  It had been said.  
Trying to preempt any more like declarations, he reproved 
the youth.  “You must not say such things!”  
 
Instantly the cat-like eyes dimmed with hurt.  It was all 
Glorfindel could do not to pull the lad into a comforting 
embrace.  He bit back the apology that leaped to his lips.  
But Erestor’s next words shattered his resolve.  
 
“I did not know it was wrong to care for someone,” he 
whispered with heart-wrenching dejection.  
 
Guilt washed over Glorfindel.  “’Tis not wrong at all, pen 
neth,” he replied gently.  
 
“Then why were you angered by what I said?” the young Elf 
asked dolefully.  
 
“I was not angered,” Glorfindel assured him.  “Indeed, I am 
touched that you should think so highly of me.”  
 
“I do not merely think highly of you,” Erestor objected 
with heart-stopping innocence.  “I-I love you.  I have 
loved you these past many years!”  
 
*Valar!*  Glorfindel was now thoroughly alarmed.  “You are 
much too young to know your heart,” he said, trying to let 
the lad down as gently as possible.  
 
“But you always say that I know my heart better than most,” 
Erestor argued.  “That I am old beyond my years.”  
 
The Elda silently cursed himself for having been so fulsome 
in his praise of the young Elf however sincere he’d been 
when he’d uttered it.  
 
“This is not right,“ he said, trying to sound firm.  “I do 
not think this a wise course for you to follow.”  
 
“You disapprove?” Erestor said painfully.  “Perhaps you 
have no liking for a half-breed Sinda with no noble blood 
or illustrious heritage to recommend him to a high-born 
Noldo like yourself.  A nobody of little worth.”  
 
Glorfindel gasped in indignation.  “You are neither a 
nobody nor of little worth!” he swiftly countered.  “Never 
think yourself less than anyone else.  You are most 
precious, Erestor.  Always believe that.”  
 
“You think me precious?”  The query was uttered with such 
joy and awe that it rendered the warrior speechless for 
several seconds.  
 
It took a moment before the stupefied Elven captain could 
recover his madly scattered wits.  When he regained his 
tongue, he found it suddenly less articulate than usual.  
“Well, of course, yes—“ he floundered.  “That is to say—“  
 
Erestor neared him and took the pendant from his hand.  
With a smile that was fatally endearing, he raised it to 
hang about his teacher’s neck.  He said softly, “May I?”  
 
Glorfindel could only nod his acquiescence, stricken silent 
by the tempting proximity of the youth.  He had to take a 
deep steadying breath as Erestor slowly drew the chain down 
until the pendant hung against his chest.  He locked gazes 
with the young Elf, found himself unable to tear his eyes 
away.  
 
Erestor, his hands still holding the chain, hesitated, 
then, with a small, shy smile, pressed his lips against his 
teacher’s mouth.  The contact was electrifying.  In that 
instant, desire surged through Glorfindel’s every vein.  
Against his volition, against every principle he had ever 
adhered to, he caught the young Elf to himself and returned 
the kiss.  His mind clouded by the youth’s innocent 
beguilement, he could not stop himself from plundering the 
other’s mouth.  He felt Erestor trembling in his arms, was 
faintly aware of his own body’s dastardly reaction.  
 
/How in Arda could an Elf still ten cycles of the sun short 
of his majority have such a devastating effect on someone 
as jaded as him?/  
 
Ten cycles of the sun!  The thought jolted him out of his 
lust-fogged state.  With a tremendous effort he brought 
himself under control once more, dragged his lips from 
Erestor’s all-too-tempting mouth and released the youth 
from his embrace.  
 
Erestor was flushed and panting erratically.  The slate 
green eyes were brilliant with newly awakened passion.  
Glorfindel berated himself for having been so weak as to 
give in to his base desires.  Schooling his expression, he 
forced a cool, detached mask upon his countenance.  The 
change did not go unnoticed by Erestor.  The youth stared 
at his teacher in puzzlement.  
 
“That was pleasant,” Glorfindel made himself remark.  “But 
not good enough, I fear.”  
 
Erestor’s eyes widened with increasing perplexity and the 
beginnings of hurt.  “What—what do you mean?” he stammered.  
 
Staunchly ignoring the youth’s confused reaction, 
Glorfindel coolly said, “Turn your fancy elsewhere, pen 
neth.  You are not to my exacting standards.”  
 
Erestor gasped in shock.  His eyes suddenly brightened with 
pained tears.  There was no mistaking the sense of betrayal 
in their depths.  He stepped away, his body flinching as if 
Glorfindel had dealt him a physical blow.  
 
The warrior felt his heart clench at the misery in the 
youth’s eyes.  Yet Erestor did him proud, refusing to give 
in to the agonizing need to shed tears.  He would not do so 
in his teacher’s presence.  
 
Glorfindel swallowed the urge to take back his words and 
pull the young Elf into his arms.  “Mayhap you would like 
your gift back?” he asked softly, not trusting his voice to 
remain steady.  
 
Erestor stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment.  Then 
suddenly the feline eyes glared at him in hurt fury.  “’Tis 
a gift!” he hissed.  “It would be discourteous to take it 
back!”  
 
On that angry note, he swiftly departed leaving Glorfindel 
numbed and shaken by the rapid change in his demeanor.  
 
Within the week he left for Lothlorien.  He did not speak 
with his teacher before he departed, did not so much as 
glance back at Glorfindel as he rode out of the courtyard 
of the Last Homely House.  
 
He returned a decade later in time to celebrate his coming-
of-age in Rivendell.  He came home a virtual stranger.  
Gone was the sweet, smiling Elf who had shown himself 
capable of so much love and open affection.  In his place 
was a cool, intelligent young adult whose smile did not 
always reach his eyes.  Gone, too, was his warm, easy 
relationship with the Imladrin captain.  He was cordial, 
willing to converse as the need arose even to the extent of 
bantering or jesting with him on occasion and showed 
nothing but utmost respect for his former tutor.  But that 
was all.  The Erestor of old had vanished.  
 
********  
Author's note: Miruvor, the cordial of Rivendell, was not 
just an alcoholic drink.  It also had the virtue of warming 
the body.  Gandalf gave miruvor to the members of the 
Company of the Ring during their unsuccessful attempt to 
use the Redhorn Pass on snowbound Caradhras.  
 
hir nîn - my lord  
pen neth - young one  
 
 
Part III  
Arwen gasped at the conclusion of the tale.  “Glorfindel, 
he was trying to mend matters with you this morn!” she 
exclaimed.  
 
Glorfindel sighed and nodded.  “And I wrecked the 
opportunity with my stupidity and all too rash tongue.  How 
I was ever adjudged intelligent enough to to be your 
teacher is beyond my ability to fathom.”  
 
“Nay, you were not thinking straight,” Elladan said 
soothingly.  
 
“Cold comfort,” the golden captain said morosely.  “If 
Erestor had been about to forgive me, I certainly ruined my 
chances of gaining it today.  I now fear he never shall.”  
 
“But I don’t think that was Erestor’s intent,” Elrohir 
murmured.  “More likely he was warm with you because he 
believed he’d finally won your approval.”  
 
“My what?” Glorfindel’s face was a picture of pure 
confusion.  
 
“Really, Glorfindel, you will make *me* doubt your 
intelligence as well,” Elrohir remarked.  “If Erestor has 
been reserved with you all these centuries, ‘tis not 
because he felt you had wronged him but because he thought 
himself beneath you.”  
 
“Elrohir is right,” Legolas agreed.  “You made him think he 
was unworthy of your affections.  ‘Not up to your exacting 
standards,’ as you said.”  
 
Glorfindel sat back and groaned.  “Ai, I should have cut 
off my tongue rather than ever uttered those accursed 
words!”  
 
“But why have you never told him the truth?” Arwen inquired 
with a frown.  
 
“I wanted to,” Glorfindel said.  “I had planned to when he 
reached his majority.  But he was so changed, so unwilling 
to speak of the incident that I finally gave up trying to 
broach it.  I thought he had ceased to care for me in that 
manner.  He certainly took enough lovers to persuade me 
that his feelings for me were long over.”  He could not 
quite prevent the catch in his voice as he uttered these 
last words.  “I could hardly force the subject upon him 
when he seemed so disinclined to even remember it.”  
 
“But he does remember it,” Legolas commented.  “And with no 
diminishment in his feelings about what occurred.”  
 
“And therefore still bears the pain of it even after all 
these years,” Elrohir finished.  
“As you bear the pain,” Arwen softly said.  “Don’t you?”  
At the startled reaction of the fair Elda, she hesitantly 
reached out her hand and ran one graceful finger along the 
delicate gold chain that barely peeked out from under his 
collar.  She glanced at Glorfindel quesitoningly.  
 
Upon the captain’s wordless nod, she drew out the chain.  
At its base hung a pendant.  A polished stone of green and 
grey mounted in a fragile ring of gold.  The young Elves 
gazed at it in wonder.  Here was the evidence of 
Glorfindel’s well-hidden secret.  His abiding love for the 
Elf who had offered this simple yet priceless treasure to 
him.  
 
“Tell him the truth,” Arwen urged him.  
 
“To what end?” he said wearily.  “If he no longer cares, it 
will not matter if he knows the truth or not.”  
 
“For his sake then if not your own,” Elladan counselled.  
“For his sense of worth.  Would you have him continue 
believing that he was not good enough for you?”  
 
Glorfindel caught his breath then shook his head.  “You are 
right,” he quietly conceded.  “I should have told him no 
matter the consequences.”  He rose from his seat, prompting 
the others to rise as well.  “I suppose ‘tis absurd to 
postpone this any longer.”  
 
Elrohir placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder.  “It 
will be all right, Glorfindel,” he softly said.  
 
The Elda smiled wanly.  “Such optimism,” he murmured, 
concealing the pendant once more.  “I fear it will not be 
that simple, Elf-knight.  I will go to him but I feel no 
confidence that the outcome will be pleasant for either of 
us.”  
 
“Yet you already have the advantage of knowing he did love 
you and mayhap still does,” Elrohir pointed out.  “Most 
beings must contend with the uncertainty of their loved 
ones’ regard or wither from unreturned passion.  ‘Twould be 
a pity to waste this opportunity, Glorfindel.  Not everyone 
gets a second chance, be it in life or in love.”  
 
Glorfindel stared at Elrohir in surprise.  He could not 
quite put his finger on it but he had the oddest feeling 
the younger twin was speaking from experience.  He caught 
the surreptitious glances Elladan and Arwen darted at their 
brother and knew his suspicion for truth.  Only Legolas 
seemed oblivious of the nuances of Elrohir’s words which 
was strange considering how close the two were.  It seemed 
the Elf-knight had not confided this matter in his friend, 
which meant he was not yet entirely certain of his feelings 
at present.  But who...?  
 
He chided himself.  He had no business prying into 
Elrohir’s affairs if the latter was inclined to keep them 
to himself.  And he had to admit, the twin’s counsel was 
not only sound but sage.  With a nod to the four younger 
Elves, he turned and headed for the library of Rivendell.  
Erestor’s refuge.  
 
********  
As he surmised, he found Erestor in the library, already 
busy on the report he’d promised Elrond.  The steward 
looked up as he entered, his countenance as cool and 
collected as ever.  
 
“I trust we can finish this report?” he said evenly.  
“Elrond will be expecting it.”  
 
Glorfindel shook his head.  “I did not come here because of 
that,” he said.  “I came to speak with you.”  
 
“About what?”  
 
“There is something I need to tell you,” Glorfindel 
hesitantly said.  “Something I should have told you long 
ago.”  
 
“Which is?” Erestor prompted.  
 
“That I did not mean what I said when I turned you away all 
those years ago.”  
 
For a moment, Erestor stared at him, surprise swiftly 
overtaking his earlier equanimity.  And then, like a storm 
descending upon the valley, anger suddenly darkened his 
eyes.  
 
“Do not feed me falsehoods, Glorfindel!” Erestor retorted.  
“I have not forgotten your scorn.  You can hardly expect me 
to believe you.  
 
“I know but ‘tis the truth nevertheless.”  
 
“If ‘tis the truth then why *did* you turn me away?”  
 
“To discourage you from pursuing me,” the warrior 
explained.  “You were so young and in my care.  To take you 
to my bed would have been a serious betrayal of my charge.”  
 
At this, Erestor forgot his usual equanimity and vented his 
long-suppressed frustration.  
 
“So you destroyed my joy?” he said incredulously.  “Took 
away my hope?  Made me believe I was so beneath you as not 
to merit even your lust?  You did that to me, you whom I 
trusted more than anyone else?”  
 
Glorfindel bore the verbal assault unprotestingly though 
his face paled under its fury.  He waited meekly for the 
tirade to abate.  And when it ended he kept his voice low 
and humble.  
 
“I am truly sorry,” he softly offered.  
 
“Why are telling me this now?”  
 
“Because you deserve to know.  Because I would not have you 
continue believing that I...“ Glorfindel paused then 
swallowed hard before saying, “...do not want you.”  
 
The steward was stricken dumb for a few painful minutes.  
When he finally found his tongue, he could only say: “Why 
did you not tell me this when I returned?  Why did you 
allow me to continue in the belief that I was so unworthy 
of your regard?”  
 
“I longed to tell you.  But by then you were so distant 
from me, I thought you no longer cared.”  Glorfindel paused 
as the memory of heartache recalled itself to him.  “And 
your attention had turned elsewhere,” he haltingly added.  
 
“It was forced elsewhere!” Erestor snarled.  “You virtually 
ordered me to stay away from you.”  
 
“And I have suffered for that ever since.”  
 
“Suffered?  What do you know of such pain?’  
 
“More than you can possibly imagine.”  
 
“I find that difficult to believe!” Erestor hissed.  “From 
what could you have suffered?”  
 
“From unrelenting regret and jealousy.”  Erestor was 
rendered wordless anew.  Glorfindel did not give him time 
to speak but pressed on.  “I was moved by what you sought 
to give me.  You came to me untouched, unspoiled.  No 
greater gift had I ever been offered then or since.”  
 
“Yet you turned my gift away!”  
 
“I did not think of the consequences of my haste.  I did 
not realize I would have to endure watching others take 
what I had so rashly refused.  Your innocence, your 
passion, your love.”  When Erestor stared at him speechless 
with surprise, he continued.  “It has been a torment 
pretending not to care when in truth I was wracked with 
envy, shaken by fury that others could have what I had 
practically forbidden myself.”  
 
Still Erestor did not speak.  The stormy eyes were narrowed 
with incredulity.  The disbelief, the patent distrust broke 
Glorfindel’s heart.  
 
“Have you nothing to say?” he softly asked.  
 
“What is there to say?  You would have me believe that you 
suffered as much as I.”  
 
“Nay, I would say that I suffered even more.  Your torment 
was not of your own making.  I have no such consolation.  I 
must live with the pain of being skewered on the lance of 
my own folly.”  
 
“Indeed,” Erestor said, his voice dripping with scorn.  
“And what would you have me do now, Noldo?”  
 
He uttered the name as if it were an imprecation.  
Glorfindel felt his heart shatter into countless shards of 
pain.  
 
“Nothing,” he whispered, defeat in his voice.  “I only 
wanted you to know the truth.  I do not desire to continue 
hiding what I really feel.”  
 
With that he departed from the library, his golden head 
bowed.  Erestor stared after him, breathing as if he'd just 
completed a swift race.  
 
 
Part IV  
Glorfindel left on border patrol the following morning, 
Elrohir and Legolas in tow.  Erestor watched him depart, 
his feelings at war within him.  Every instinct screamed at 
him to go to Rivendell’s captain and make peace with him.  
But his pride deterred him at every turn.  
 
He soon had reason to rue his stubbornness when the patrol 
returned unexpectedly three days later.  He was in the 
library with Elladan when Legolas burst into the chamber, 
his face ashen with fear.  
 
“Erestor, come quickly!” he cried.  “Glorfindel is 
grievously injured!”  
 
The volume the steward was holding dropped to the floor 
with a crash.  Without a word, he and Elladan followed the 
Mirkwood prince to the healing halls at a brisk run.  They 
burst unceremoniously into the room wherein the golden Elf-
lord lay.  Three healers were bent over his body including 
Elrond himself.  Elrohir stood at his side holding a basin 
of impossibly scarlet-tinted water.  Erestor could not 
withhold a sharp intake of breath when his eyes fell upon 
Glorfindel.  
 
The warrior lay on his stomach, his eyes closed, his face 
still and white.  But his back—his back was covered with 
the crimson flow of his life’s blood.  
 
“What-what happened?” he hoarsely asked Elrond who labored 
steadily over the wounded warrior.  
 
“Three knife wounds.  Very deep and wide,” Elrond replied 
distractedly, his healer’s hands deftly manipulating the 
wounded flesh to staunch the bleeding within and without.  
“Fortunately, they are not poisoned.”  He lifted his head 
momentarily to glance at Erestor, wondering at his 
steward’s stricken face.  “But he has lost much blood and 
is severely weakened.”  
 
Erestor drew a shuddering breath.  “Will he die?” he asked 
in a tight voice.  
 
“Not if I can help it,” Elrond pronounced tersely.  “Fear 
not, Erestor.  I will not let those infernal creatures have 
this victory.  Mandos’ Halls will not be graced by 
Glorfindel’s presence a second time.”  
 
Erestor swallowed with difficulty.  Looking up he saw 
Celebrian and Arwen at the door, staring in horror at the 
sight of Rivendell’s beloved captain so seriously injured.  
Arwen’s eyes suddenly met his and he flinched.  The Elf-
maid’s glare was patently accusing.  He lowered his eyes.  
It seemed Arwen knew about their last encounter if not its 
content.  And it was obvious that she regarded it as the 
direct cause of Glorfindel’s present state.  
 
The captain had been distracted the morning he led the 
patrol out of the valley.  That would account for his 
failure to evade his enemy’s strokes.  The Elf was too 
seasoned a warrior and too agile an opponent to have been 
so careless as to open himself to such an assault.  
 
I *am* to blame, Erestor castigated himself.  He would not 
have been in such a state had I not been so cruel and 
unforgiving.  
 
He kept watch over the warrior for the next several days, 
leaving his side only when necessary, puzzling Elrond and 
Celebrian as he stubbornly insisted on virtually tending to 
all the injured Elda’s needs.  He took over ministering to 
the wounds and changing the bandages as soon as Elrond 
declared Glorfindel out of immediate danger.  He coaxed 
spoonfuls of broth past the pliant lips when the golden-
haired Elf was conscious enough to swallow nourishment 
though not aware of who cared for him.  And he bathed him 
as tenderly and carefully as he might a new-born infant.  
Only it wasn’t quite the same as bathing a babe, Erestor 
realized with shock and wonder the first time he undressed 
his former mentor.  
 
He had never seen Glorfindel completely naked before.  His 
bared torso, yes, when he trained Rivendell’s warriors, oft 
clad in naught but breeches and boots.  He had never 
admitted to himself just how much he was affected by the 
picture of what he’d once sought to know more intimately.  
The hurt and humiliation he’d experienced in his youth had 
always barred the way.  
 
But now, he was faced with the full splendor of the Elf-
warrior.  Even while lying on a sickbed barely pulled back 
from the brink of death, he was the image of all that was 
beautiful and noble and desirable.  His hands trembled as 
he deftly washed Glorfindel’s form, hesitating when he came 
to the Elda’s groin.  
 
Dare I? he thought.  Steeling himself, he attempted to 
finish his chore soonest.  But his hand shook almost 
violently when it brushed against Glorfindel’s shaft.  He 
stopped his movements and cursed his lack of control.  
Then, unable to hold back, he hesitantly drew his fingers 
once through the golden curls upon the Elda’s groin and 
along the length of his shaft.  Dear Elbereth, it was a 
formidable spear even when quiescent.  What more when 
Glorfindel was aroused?  
 
Erestor heaved a pensive sigh.  Not that he would ever 
know.  After everything that had happened, it was unlikely 
Glorfindel would approach him again.  He had severed the 
last connection that might still have bridged the gap 
between them with his prideful words.  The thought saddened 
him immeasurably and dampened the incipient lust that had 
stirred within him.  He completed his task with little more 
difficulty.  
 
********  
He was tucking the covers securely around the warrior when 
he became aware of the latter’s groggy scrutiny.  It was 
now more than a week since the incident and Glorfindel had 
been drifting in and out of consciousness the past few 
days.  Erestor could not be sure if the captain had been 
aware of his steady presence.  Until now.  
 
A pair of aquamarine eyes regarded him with full lucidity.  
 
“You did not have to take care of me,” Glorfindel quietly 
said, his voice somewhat thready.  “But thank you anyway.”  
 
Erestor was at a loss for words.  This was so sudden.  He 
was completely unprepared.  
 
“How do you feel?” he finally asked, then cursed himself 
silently for such an inane opening.  
 
Glorfindel grimaced.  “Like death warmed over,” he 
muttered.  He tried to rise only to feel the room spin 
around him.  
 
Erestor quickly caught him as he fell back dizzily.  
 
“Do not move!” he softly exclaimed.  “You are still weak, 
my friend.”  
 
Glorfindel lay still awhile, waiting for his head to stop 
whirling.  
 
“Am I?” he asked at length.  
 
“Are you what?” Erestor stared at him confusedly.  
 
“Your friend.”  
 
The steward was shocked.  “Of course you are!”  
 
Glorfindel simply looked at him.  Erestor shivered inwardly 
at the lack of emotion in the usually expressive cobalt 
pools.  
 
“I had better get Elrond,” he said.  
 
The captain merely nodded.  Erestor departed, his heart 
weighted with apprehension.  
 
Glorfindel’s recovery was swift from that point onwards.  
Ever the warrior he rose from his sickbed sooner than might 
have been expected and returned to his duties as soon as he 
was deemed fit enough to do so.  Not even Elrond could 
persuade him to take his time before resuming his 
responsibilities.  He had wasted enough time lying abed.  
 
Erestor watched him go about his way with a heavy heart.  
Not once did the Elda speak to him of their quarrel.  
Indeed, he did not speak to him at all if he could help 
it.  But it was not anger that made him keep his distance.  
 
It was my own words to him the last time we talked that 
keeps him away, Erestor despondently admitted to himself.  
 
The steward was aware an apology to the captain was 
warranted.  He’d had the right to be angry with Glorfindel 
but there had been no need to be vicious about it.  
Unfortunately, Erestor was also as proud as they came.  
He’d seldom apologized to anyone in his life; he’d avoided 
situations that would require him to humble himself 
thusly.  The encounter with Glorfindel in his youth had 
traumatized him so deeply he’d never put himself in a 
position of such vulnerablity again.  
 
So, the words were not said.  And the silence between them 
continued.  Elbereth only knew how long this deplorable 
state of affairs would have gone on if not for an 
unexpected encounter in one of the corridors of the Last 
Homely House one afternoon.  
 
He was rounding a corner when he heard voices speaking in 
the hallway beyond.  Glorfindel and Arwen’s voices.  He 
cautiously took a peek at them.  They were discussing 
something of import  judging from their serious 
expressions.  Erestor wondered what.  
 
“But Glorfindel--!” Arwen finally exclaimed in frustration.  
 
“Leave it be,” the captain said.  “‘Tis over between us.”  
 
“You do not believe that.”  
 
“It matters not what I believe.  Erestor made it quite 
clear that whatever feelings he once held for me are no 
longer there.”  
 
Erestor nearly gasped when he heard his name.  
 
“He only spoke in anger.  That he approached you that morn 
is evidence that his regard is still present.”  
 
Glorfindel shook his head.  “‘Twas not love that drove 
him.”  
 
“If not love, then what?” Arwen demanded stubbornly.  
 
Glorfindel sighed.  “As you so sagely put it he was simply 
trying to mend matters between us, nothing more.  I must 
go.”  
 
He hastened past the Elf-maiden before she could further 
press him.  Arwen stared after him with an unlady-like 
scowl.  
 
“Eavesdropping?  It does not become you, Erestor.”  
 
The steward whirled around to stare into Elrohir’s argent 
eyes.  Elladan and Legolas stood behind him.  
 
“I was not eavesdropping.” he protested indignantly.  “I 
just did not want to intrude on them so suddenly.”  
 
“And the fact that they were talking about you had nothing 
to do with it,” Elladan commented.  
 
Erestor glowered at the Elf-lords.  “I have nothing to say 
to you,” he growled with uncharacteristic gracelessness.  
 
“But *I* have something to say to you.”  
 
He groaned inwardly.  Turning, he faced a rather irate 
Arwen.  She wasted no time at all.  
 
“We don’t have to know what you said to him,” she said 
caustically.  “All we need know is that it left him so 
distraught, he couldn’t evade a witless orc’s charge!”  
 
“Arwen--”  
 
“He went to you to apologize for the past.  How many would 
have lowered themselves to do that?  Certainly none as 
valiant and proud as one who slew a Balrog and passed 
through Mandos’ Halls because of it!”  
 
Elrohir placed a calming hand on his sister’s shoulder.  
 
“Peace, muinthel,” he murmured.  He glanced at a white-
faced Erestor.  “That Glorfindel wronged you then is 
undeniable,” he said.  “But he did try to make amends for 
it even if belated.  We believed you would accept his 
effort.  He didn’t.  He obviously knew you all too well.”  
 
“He told you about us?” Erestor asked with some 
consternation.  
 
“Glorfindel told us about his error in handling your 
youthful attachment to him,” Legolas supplied.  “He was 
truly remorseful about it, Erestor.”  
 
Color stained the counsellor’s cheeks that the others 
should know of his past infatuation.  
 
“I wish he had not done that,” he said uncomfortably.  
 
“We pressed him,” Elladan stated.  “And we could tell that 
he needed to talk about it.  He probably needed to talk 
about it all these years.”  He regarded the flustered 
counsellor with sympathy.  “He loved you then, do you know 
that?  He still does.”  
 
Erestor flushed further.  “So he told me,” he conceded.  
 
“But you did not believe him.”  
 
The advisor let out an irritated sigh.  “As if ‘tis easy to 
believe after all these centuries,” he snorted.  “He never 
came to me, never indicated that he felt otherwise.  
 
“He is as proud as you are, chief steward,” Elrohir said.  
“It was no easy thing for him to own himself wrong and 
admit it to you as well.”  
 
“Mayhap.  But you can hardly blame me for being sceptical.”  
 
“Be that as it may, what will you now do to make amends?” 
Arwen asked pointedly.  
 
“What will *I* do--?”  
 
“To set things right between the two of you,” she said.  
“Glorfindel took the first step and a very big one I must 
say.  When will you do your part?”  
 
Erestor shrank from the idea.  “This is ridiculous,” he 
objected.  “‘Tis not as if I started this.”  
 
Arwen exploded.  “You have both suffered for nigh on two 
millennia because of his ill-spoken words!” she cried 
vexedly.  “Will you both now suffer another two thousand 
years because of your benighted pride?”  
 
Erestor stared at her in shock.  Never had the Elf-maid 
behaved so indecorously around him.  A hand on his arm drew 
his attention once more to Elrohir.  
 
“Is it indeed over between you?” the Elf-knight asked ever 
so gently.  
 
muinthel - sister  
 
 
Part V  
Glorfindel undid his tunic a little wearily.  He was not 
tired in body so much as he was drained in spirit.  Nothing 
seemed to lift them nowadays.  Nothing since...  He 
mentally shook his head.  Useless to dwell on that.  He 
shrugged off the tunic.  
 
He started and inadvertently dropped it to the floor when 
Erestor entered his room without bothering to knock.  For a 
moment, he stared at the steward, amazed at the other’s 
lack of propriety.  Erestor never behaved with anything 
less than utmost decorum.  
 
“You seem to have mislaid your manners,” he commented.  
 
To his bemusement, the counsellor blushed.  He’d half 
expected Erestor to come back with some ascerbic reply.  
 
“If I did not knock ‘tis because I was uncertain that you 
would let me in,” the steward admitted.  
 
Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “And what, 
pray tell, was your purpose in coming here?” he inquired 
evenly.  
 
Disconcerted by the captain’s demeanor, Erestor nearly 
bolted.  But he forced himself to go on.  It was either 
that or face the four young Elves again.  He could not 
decide which was more daunting.  
 
“I wanted to talk to you,” he finally said.  
 
“What could you possibly want to say that you did not 
already tell me?” Glorfindel said.  The barest hint of hurt 
tinged his words.  A flicker of pain showed in his eyes.  
For the first time Erestor realized just how much 
Glorfindel had humbled himself in going to him that day.  
/He lowered himself before me, sought my forgiveness, cast 
aside his pride to make amends and instead of trying to 
understand, I hurled back his apology in his teeth./  
Erestor shuddered inwardly.  
 
“Erestor?” Glorfindel said quietly.  “What is it you wish 
to talk about?”  
The steward drew a calming breath.  “I wanted to say I am 
sorry for the way I behaved toward you,” he explained 
haltingly.  “Before you left on patrol.”  
 
Glorfindel sighed.  “You had every right to act as you 
did,” he said.  “There was just cause.”  
 
He bent down to pick up his tunic.  As he did so, the stone 
pendant slipped out from under his shirt and hung in plain 
sight of the steward.  Erestor’s eyes homed in on it.  He 
caught his breath.  His former teacher still had it after 
all these millennia.  
 
It could only mean one thing.  Glorfindel had cared for him 
and still did.  Erestor was thoroughly shaken. / He told me 
the truth./  
 
He hesitated then said: “Glorfindel, I am no longer 
untouched as you put it.  Yet in one matter I am still as 
innocent as I was the day I approached you.”  
 
“What matter is this?”  The Elda looked up with dulled blue 
eyes.  The sight made Erestor’s heart ache with regret and 
self-reproach.  
 
“I have never lain with an ellon,” he said, reddening 
slightly at making so personal an admission.  
 
Glorfindel shook his head.  “Please, Erestor, I am not 
blind.  I have seen the company you have kept in all these 
many years.”  
 
Erestor swallowed hard at the pain in the other’s voice.  
“True, but ‘tis only ellith I bedded,” he tightly 
clarified.  “I could be intimate with them for there was no 
comparing any woman with you.”  Glorfindel started then 
stared at him.  The tiniest spark of a response showed in 
his eyes.  Encouraged by that reaction, Erestor plunged 
on.  “But I could not take any Elf-male to my bed.  It did 
not feel right.”  He had to pause for another deep breath.  
“They were not you.”  
 
Glorfindel’s stare if anything grew even more intense.  
Erestor suddenly found it hard to breath evenly.  He said 
shakily: “I...I suppose I was...saving that part of 
myself...for you.  Should...should you ever want it.”  He 
added almost inaudibly: “I love you, my lord.”  
 
For the length of a heartbeat they stared at each other.  
Then, of a sudden, Glorfindel surged forward, eyes flashing 
with unholy brilliance.  Startled, Erestor took a step 
backward.  But before he could move any further, the Noldo 
had reached him, pulling him into an embrace that brooked 
no resistance.  
 
Lips crashed against his possessively, ravenously.  In that 
instant, Erestor felt as if he’d been swept back in time to 
when he’d been but a lovesick young Elf offering his heart 
to his beloved tutor.  But this was nothing like that 
past.  In this present, Glorfindel did not push him away, 
did not tell him to turn his fancy elsewhere.  In this 
present, his former teacher accepted, nay, claimed his gift 
with breathtaking urgency.  And he was claiming it in a 
manner that made it patently clear that there would be no 
turning back.  
 
Erestor gasped as his mouth was invaded as it had never 
been before.  He did not resist.  What he had denied every 
other lover he now yielded.  It was simply right.  
 
They never made it to the bed.  Erestor’s soon discarded 
robe provided all the bedding they needed on the floor upon 
which Glorfindel lowered him with understandable haste.  He 
followed the steward down closely to mold their bodies 
together as intimately as possible.  
 
Casting aside all the grief and regrets of two millennia 
past, the Elvenlord had to summon all his self-control not 
to give in to the irresistible urge to ravish the dark-
haired counsellor and take once and for all what he had 
denied himself for far too long.  Only the knowledge that 
Erestor had never lain with another male Elf kept him from 
taking so peremptorily that which he craved.  He had caused 
enough hurt for the other; he would not do so now and mar 
this joyous reconciliation. Glorfindel forced himself to 
slow down, to pleasure the other first until he was certain 
Erestor was ready to yield.  
 
Erestor felt sentience desert him in the face of 
Glorfindel’s tender onslaught.  Haughtiness had no place 
here or reserve or self-control.  He found himself writhing 
wantonly under the touch of possessive hands, bucking 
helplessly into the heat of a demanding mouth, clutching at 
the robe beneath him as he was delved by a questing 
tongue.  All thoughts of decorum vanished as he gave 
himself up to the only Elf who’d ever held his heart.  
 
Sheer ecstasy at the moment of their joining was sweet 
reward for Glorfindel’s efforts.  Incomparable rapture 
coursed through his body as he buried himself deep in 
Erestor’s flesh.  Together they moved as one, enjoying each 
other’s pleasure, savoring the inimitable bliss of union.  
When Erestor hoarsely cried out his name in delight at the 
height of their coupling, Glorfindel knew boundless joy.  
And when his own release followed but a moment later, he 
found it the purest, most intense sensation he had ever 
experienced in his immortal life.  
 
********  
Erestor awoke in a bed not his own.  Alarm might have taken 
him then but for the scent on the sheet that covered him.  
Glorfindel.  He remembered what had passed the night 
before.  They’d moved to the bed after that first joyous 
coupling and engaged in more loving.  After centuries of 
denial and heartache they could not get enough of each 
other.  It was near dawn when they finally surrendered to 
the pull of slumber.  
 
He turned his head and saw the captain reclining on the 
lounging chair in the small enclosed terrace outside his 
chamber.  Almost at the same time, Glorfindel happened to 
look at him.  He smiled invitingly.  
 
Blushing slightly, Erestor rose and pulled on the bed-robe 
Glorfindel had laid on the covers for him.  He joined the 
other Elf and was at once drawn down into an intimate 
embrace.  Tucking his head into the crook of Glorfindel’s 
neck, he waited quietly, reluctant to break the tranquil 
silence of the morning.  
 
At length, Glorfindel stirred and bent his head to take a 
draught of his lips.  The next several minutes were spent 
in a spate of sweet, languorous kisses.  When Glorfindel 
finally released his lips, Erestor sighed in contentment 
and gazed at him with devotion-flecked eyes.  Glorfindel 
felt his heart swell at this evidence of the other’s deep-
seated affection.  
 
The golden Elda said: “When Manwë sent me back to these 
shores, I wondered why he required me to serve Elrond.  It 
seemed strange that he desired me to do this for the son of 
him for whom I had already given my life to save.  Not that 
I begrudged my service here,” Glorfindel smiled.  “I found 
all that I had lost in Gondolin--friends, family, a sense 
of purpose.  But now I realize Manwë meant for me to find 
my greatest reward in Elrond’s home.  You.”  
 
Erestor felt his throat tighten, moved by the warrior’s 
declaration.  It brought home to him just how providential 
fate could be given the right circumstances.  Not to 
mention a helpful push by the Powers that be.  
 
“You have never talked to anyone about that time in your 
life,” he murmured.  “Your passing, the Halls of Waiting or 
even your return to Middle-earth.  Will you not tell me at 
least?  I would be of comfort to you, knowing what you must 
have suffered.  Will you trust me?”  
 
Glorfindel gazed into the feline eyes; their slate green 
depths were limpid with steadfast love and utter devotion.  
He had never cared to be so open with anyone about that 
period in his life--the horror, the trauma and the 
loneliness.  But in Erestor he had found his haven from all 
the hurts of his long and eventful life.  He knew then that 
it was time to unburden himself of the secrets of two ages 
and uncounted centuries.  
 
And so he told him everything.  Spoke of the searing agony 
of the Balrog’s flames and the horrendous fall from Cirith 
Thoronath to both their ruins.  Held in Erestor’s 
comforting arms, he recounted the centuries long stay in 
the Timeless Halls, thinking, reflecting, always waiting, 
and then his release and the terms that had secured it.  An 
oath of service to the son of Eärendil, rebirth and the 
swift growth to his second majority, the return of memories 
and the upholding of his oath and, finally, the journey 
back to a vastly changed Middle-earth and his long service 
to Elrond from the realm of Gil-galad in Lindon to the wars 
in Eregion to the founding of Rivendell.  
 
“Even then I was alone and lonely,” Glorfindel quietly 
admitted.  “Though I took many to my bed, warriors and 
maids alike, I never did so in love.  Only once before did 
I give my heart but she was meant for another.”  
 
Erestor felt a pang of jealousy which dissipated as soon as 
he saw the sorrow in his lover’s eyes.  “Who was she?” he 
softly asked.  
 
“Turgon’s daughter.”  
 
“Idril Celebrindal?” Erestor gaped.  “Elrond’s 
grandmother?  Then your defense of her family against the 
Balrog was--” he stopped, astounded by the implications.  
 
“For love of her, aye,” Glorfindel said.  “I could not let 
harm come to her or he whom she loved and still less to her 
only child.  I counted the forfeit of my life well worth it 
if it thereby saved her and hers.”  He stroked Erestor’s 
jaw with a slender finger.  “When I returned to this life, 
I hoped I would know love once more.  But the years passed 
without even a glimmer of hope and I began to believe that 
‘twas not my fate.  Until you came along.”  
 
“I did not fully understand why I was so drawn to you.  I 
thought ‘twas but the fondness of a teacher for a most able 
student.  But when you came to me that day and offered 
yourself, I knew then I had found what I had been seeking 
all these long years.”  
 
Erestor gazed at him with pained eyes.   “If I had not been 
so distant when I returned from Lorien, what would you have 
done?” he asked in a hushed voice.  
 
The warrior bit his lip.  “I would have gone down on my 
knees and apologized for the hurt I caused you,” he 
honestly replied.  “And, if you had accepted it, I would 
have told you that my heart was yours and asked if you 
would still have me.”  
 
Erestor looked at him, stricken.  He gave a low moan and 
pressed his face into the captain’s neck, his body 
trembling.  
 
“Erestor!  What is it?” Glorfindel asked in alarm.  
 
The steward drew away, his eyes glittering with anguish.  
“If I had given you that chance,” he said sorrowfully. “If 
I had not pretended indifference, you would have been mine 
and I, yours long ago.”  He closed his eyes tightly as if 
to shut out all the hurt and frustration of the past.  
 
Pain briefly limned Glorfindel’s features.  “Do not blame 
yourself.  If *I* had paused to consider the consequences 
of my words...” he said under his breath.  “It broke my 
heart to break yours.  But your declaration of love was my 
undoing.  I knew that if I gave you any hope at all, you 
would not desist and I would then have taken your 
innocence.  I could not do that to you, not then.  But I 
could have chosen a less offensive way to turn you down 
instead of hurting you so deeply.  Forgive me, beloved.”  
 
Erestor felt his heart swell at the intimate endearment.  
“Nay, you were only trying to protect me in my impetuous 
youth,” he murmured.  “Had I used my wits I would have 
discerned your motive and not held your words against you 
all these centuries.”  
 
“You were young and innocent,” Glorfindel protested.  
 
“And old beyond my years as you used to tell me,” Erestor 
reminded him.  “I should never have let my anger rule me.  
And I rue even more my confounded pride knowing now how 
much you treasured the innocence I would have given you.  
But instead of biding my time, I spent myself in the arms 
of others.”  
 
Glorfindel stared at him in surprise.  “What do you--?”  
 
The steward cut him off.  “’Twas my gift to you though you 
could not accept it at the time,” he choked.  “I should 
have kept it whole and unspoiled for you.  But in my anger, 
I tarnished it irrevocably and now ‘tis nothing more than a 
tawdry trinket that I have given you.”  
 
“How can you believe that?” Glorfindel exclaimed softly.  
“Think you I deem your love so low?  There is nothing 
tawdry about yourself, melethron; not your body or spirit 
or heart.”  
 
“But you admitted jealousy of the lovers I kept company 
with,” Erestor said.  
 
Glorfindel nodded.  “Aye, I was jealous.  How could I not 
be?  But I never thought you anything less than precious 
and dearer to me than all the treasures of Middle-earth.  
That you took no ellon to your bed because of me is a 
wondrous surprise but the gift I desired most was your love 
and that you have given me, untouched, unspoiled by any 
other.  What greater innocence can there be than that?”  
 
Erestor gazed at him with ever deepening emotion.  “If I 
had only known that,” he whispered. “Happiness would have 
been ours even before this age.”  
 
Glorfindel sighed and pressed a kiss to Erestor’s temple.  
“Ai, ‘tis fruitless to dwell on the past.  I would rather 
ponder the future.  And it looks very bright now that you 
are mine.”  
 
Erestor’s cat-like eyes glimmered with pleasure.  The very 
glow in them spurred Glorfindel to take the next step.  
“Melethron,” he said in a hushed voice, “I would bind 
myself to you if you would have me.”  
 
“If I would have you?” Erestor gasped in surprised 
delight.  “I would do it tomorrow if you wished it.”  
 
Glorfindel’s smile lit up his passing fair countenance.  
“Nay, let us wait the requisite year,” he said.  “I would 
still provide a good example for our pyn neth.”  
 
Erestor snorted good-humoredly.  “Since when have they ever 
followed anyone’s example, good or bad?  They will do as 
they wish and oft be the first to do it at that.”  
 
“They are highly original,” the warrior agreed with a 
grin.  “Yet I have them to thank for this moment.  Without 
their intervention I should never have gained you at last.  
They gave me a fearsome scolding after you left me that 
morning.”  
 
“*They* scolded *you*?” Erestor was astonished.  He had 
never thought the young Elves would ever have the temerity 
to challenge the redoubtable Elda in any way.  
 
“Be warned.  Arwen’s tongue can be sharper than my best 
sword.”  
 
The steward chuckled.  “I confess they did the same thing 
to me before I came to you.”  
 
Glorfindel stared at him.  “Let me guess.  Arwen gave you a 
tongue-lashing as well.”  
 
“Aye.  She seems to have inherited Elrond’s temper rather 
than Celebrian’s.”  
 
“We’d best keep that in mind.  And the others?”  
 
“More persuasive than a Bree innkeeper trying to sell sour 
ale.”  
 
The golden-haired warrior laughed out loud at the steward’s 
succinct portrayal of the younger Elves.  “They grow ever 
more formidable as their years lengthen,” he smiled.  “May 
their tribe increase!”  
 
ellon - male Elf  
ellith - Ef-maids  
melethron - beloved or lover (m.)  
pyn neth - young ones  
 
The end